


Coruscant's party

by Gabriel4Sam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Collar, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Satine, Satine Kryze Lives, Semi-Public Sex, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: Outside, the party is going full swing on the terrace.Inside, Duchesse in exile Satine Kryze has backed General Kenobi up against the wall.





	1. Chapter 1

Outside, on the terrace of the buildings, the party goers were drinking, cheering, plotting all the things they could to push their children into the good beds or the Senators in their pockets into the good war committee.

Inside, Duchesse in exile Satine Kryze backed General Kenobi up against the wall.

Her mouth was hot and fierce on his neck, branding every centimetre of skin she could find and the perfume she was wearing, something fresh, with notes acidulous, gave him an erection every time, like some sort of Pavlovian reflex: he only was close enough to remark it when they were having sex and now every time he scented it, his body thought it was time to grow hard.

He whimpered when she bit him again.

“Am I boring you, dear?” She asked, amused.

For a non-violent woman, she loved to left marks in bed, or against any other convenient flat surfaces.

For a man who valued his privacy, Obi-Wan sure loved to be marked where other people would see.

He swallowed thickly when she bit particularly hard on the side of his jaw. He didn’t even remember the reason of that particular party and which Senator had insisted for a Jedi presence, parading a General like a pet. The war was spiralling out of control and Coruscant had never partied so hard to forget it.

And every occasion she could, Satine stole him. He came back to the Temple from playing Negotiator every night, smelling like her, bruises and bites marking him, and he didn’t care anymore. He volunteered for every Senate thing, for every party where a Jedi was supposed to go, and let Satine mess him up in every semi private room they found.

The only thing existing was Satine and her determination in the Force. He knew she didn’t ask because of the war. Because he wouldn’t abandon his brethren during that time, his men.

He knew that the second the fighting stopped, she would do everything in her power to keep him for her alone, a wedding, a collar, everything she could thought of….

And it was intoxicating.

He tilted his head away, moaning quietly when she immediately started to kiss the skin he had offered.

She slipped her knee between his legs and he swore.

“The party?”

“Do you want to go back to it?”

“…Kiss me again.”

His hands drifted lower and Satine pressed harder against him when he kneaded her ass. She wasn’t wearing underwear this night.

“Force”, he swore softly when her hands opened his pants, caressing his sex, hard and flushed.

“I want to taste you,” he protested when it seemed she would only caress him. He wanted more, he wanted everything and to be good for her, worthy of her.

They rolled against the wall, Satine leaning against it instead of him, her hands moving to his neck and urging him down onto his knees in front of her He inched the dress higher. They were folds and folds of clothes, so much it was a miracle she could be so gracious under all that weight, and he loved the way it enclosed him, surrounded him. He could lose himself inside those skirts, stay here, hidden from the pain, with only Satine, their love and the taste of her flesh.

His fingers caressed her long legs and he helped one of them over his shoulder, crowing closer. Her nails were against his scalp, playing with his hair.

“You’re so beautiful, my Obi-Wan”, Satine whispered, her voice reverent and he gave her a sunny smile at the possessive word. He kissed his way to the golden curls and got to work. She was so wet, she was always so wet with him and he adored that. His beard would be a mess and he would need to find a fresher urgently before going back to the party, or perhaps to let her stole him more, to go back to her place like he had dared a few times. Her legs was shaking as he licked her and used every trick he had ever know about her pleasure and her fingers were tight on his hair, directing him, her hips finding the good rhythm and almost riding his mouth.

She muffled her cries against her hand and he took care of keeping her upright, not like the first time he had eaten her out like that and the two of them had suddenly be in piles on the floor without knowing exactly how that had happened.

He was so hard it almost hurt but he didn’t touch himself. He liked….

“Obi-Wan,” she growled, her voice still breathless.

He liked _that._ He took himself in hand.

“Very good,” she crooned, caressing his hair with one hand, the fingers of the other tracing the shape of his mouth, slick from her pleasure.

“Very good, my beautiful, perfect Obi. Just like that, darling, beloved. Fuck your hand. You will come for me, darling. I want to see you come, and then I’m taking you home.”

Obi-Wan thrust into his fist, sucking blindly on her thumb. She combed her fingers through his hair, encouraging, her voice low.

“That’s it, beloved, just like that. Come for me and I will take you home, spread you on my bed. Perhaps tie you if you beg nicely.”

Her fingers muffled his noises when he came violently and she grinned at him, mischievous and victorious. She knelt beside him, sliding one hand down to stroke his spent cock, making him whine for overstimulation at the same time he opened his mouth for her kiss.

“Let me take you home,” she asked, and he nodded, hiding his face in her neck.

 


	2. Chapter 2

In a white apartment, the Duchesse of Mandalore was waiting. Outside, Coruscant was singing and dancing and partying too much. There would be a lot of hangovers in the morning.

The war was done.

The Sith was dead, sliced in three by Mace Windu who had retreated into the Temple to escape the celebration once he had understood he was at risk of being carried in triumph through the street. Satine had send a formal congratulation, in the name of Mandalore, and then another, more personal, to the Temple. She wanted to have peace, even trust, with the Jedi Order, after all, and not only because they would be major players in the political scene for the next years, if they played their cards right. She wanted it, because they were Obi-Wan’s family.

Satine was watching the fireworks, her mind working twice quicker than usual, and, not that she would have ever confessed it, something knotted deep in her belly. So many things depended from tonight. In three days, she would depart for Mandalore again, no more Duchesse in exile but rightful ruler. The important question was: would she go alone?

The jewel box was lovely, white leather with the Kryze symbol incrusted in gold in it. She was eying it and she was almost ready to open it again, for the fifth, sixth time tonight, to gaze at the promises it contained when she heard the sound of a speeder docking.

Two minutes after, Obi-Wan was inside. He was smiling, the joy of the peace evident on his face. Two seconds after, they were in each other arms, talking at the same time. Obi-Wan laughed and nodded, like a sign she should speak first.

She smiled.

“We’re free. The galaxy is free.”

She slid one hand across his cheek. He didn’t need to lean over: she was a tall woman and when she knew she wouldn’t have to run for her life, she liked her heels tall and sharp enough to kill with them if necessary. The kiss was too passionate to be something other than sloppy but it wasn’t important. It was a celebration and it went on and on until a particularly noisy firework made them jump and break it.

She nuzzled into Obi-Wan’s neck, her lungs full of his scent. He always smelt a little of ozone, something she had come to love. As she loved him. As she had loved him for years, every time she had let him go in the name of duty.

And now, the Sith was dead and the war was won.

She couldn’t wait anymore to ask. Yes, she could play the long game in politics, but it wasn’t about overpowering obnoxious politicians. It was too important, it was so important, and she had waited too many years.

“I have a question for you, my dear,” she whispered, as if someone could have listened. It was for them. Their moment, stolen again and again by duty and wars. She went to fetch the box.

He only arched a curious eyebrow. She wasn’t in the habits to gift him objects, in part because he wasn’t interested in material possession and in part because it could have landed him in trouble. But that was over and she hoped for years to spoil him, for Obi-Wan to learn little by little that he could have nice things.

She opened the jewel box and didn’t miss Obi-Wan’s intake of breath when he saw what was waiting inside.

If the box was precious, the collar itself was very simple. Elegant in a way that hinted money, but not obnoxious. Surprisingly tasteful for something that ninety nine per cent of the galaxy still put in the kink category. She had it made in the purest platinum, on Mandalore, couldn’t even think about gifting him something made on another planet.

“Yes. Yes, please,” he immediately said, too quick for Satine asking any questions.

She touched his cheek again.

“My love, I’m not proposing a quick night with accessories. This need a serious conversation. About Mandalore and the Jedi and what we want of each other.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

He tore his gaze from the collar and, surprised, she realised his eyes were wet.

“I waited for that almost twenty years,” he simply said and she nodded, kissed him again.

“In the bedroom,” she said. They needed to have a long conversation, but, yes, perhaps it could wait until tomorrow morning. They had all the time in the world, now, thanks to Mace Windu, to negotiate that new part of their lives. Tonight, they could celebrate.

At her orders, he disrobed, putting on a chair his carefully folded clothes. He never had been body shy, a reaction to his education in groups, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling grateful every time he disrobed for her. She only loosed her shoes and her underwear: he loved when she was dressed and he naked and she had every intention to push every button of him this night, until he couldn’t remember his own name, until _her_ name was the only word still existing.

Finally, all those folds that the Jedi Order used to hide his members were defeated and he stood, naked, scared and proud and alive in front of her… Her words escaped her for a moment.

“Kneel, my Knight,” she finally asked, and even if it was phrased as an order, it was a question. A question about their future, about his presence in her life, about the fact that she wanted more, so much more than stolen nights, and now, now…

He kneeled, without even a second of hesitation.

She was breathless with love. He was beautiful, kneeling and trusting and _hers_. She would die before breaking that trust. His green eyes were vibrant and wide and fixed on her with such adoration… She caressed his mouth, his beard, his hairs and he closed his eyes, almost purring.

She shuddered with joy. Hers, hers, hers, _hers_ …

He rested his head against her belly and she ruffled his hair. Even the beard couldn’t hide how his cheekbones were more pronounced than before. He need to eat more, to sleep more.

But that was fine. She took very good care of what was hers.

“Will you be mine?” She asked, chest almost heaving, and he smiled, suddenly ten years younger.  

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

She closed the collar around his neck and the sound of the lock, the simple click it made, was worth ten symphonies.

_Hers…_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr too, under the same username, come and say hi!


End file.
